


Cuddle?

by Flannigan



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 15:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13767099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flannigan/pseuds/Flannigan
Summary: Casimiro doesn't want Finas to leave the bed, but he's running late.





	Cuddle?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a filled prompt sent to me on my tumblr, www.it-s-blue-ink.tumblr.com, come by and say hello if you want

Finas started buttoning up the deep blue shirt he wore yesterday. His hands smoothed over stubborn creases and folds that wouldn’t go away. With an annoyed mutter and glance at the clock he undid the one button and let it fall to join the small chaos of discarded clothes on the floor.

“Gasp, Finas,” a mock-suprised voice came from underneath the pillows where a very tired and very naked Casimiro buried his head. “Was there a speck of dust on it? Oh no, can’t have that. How unrespectable. What will the neighbours think?”

Finas ignored his words and pushed the clothes, his and Casimiro’s, together in pile with his foot. To deal with later. He found another shirt and set about closing the buttons while looking over his italian in their bed, hogging all the covers close around himself. A glaring eye watched him from under the pillows.

“Were you planning on staying in bed the whole night?”

“I fuckin’ might,” Casimiro groaned.

“At least take a shower. Or two. Cold ones.”

“Fuck, you’re hilarious, ha-ha. … Are you in a rush or somethin’?”

“Yes,” Finas stifled an annoyed grunt, “and I think I’m going to blame you for it.”

“It’s not my fault you’ve got no self-control.”

Finas’ reply was to huff and turn away. Behind him he heard the sheets move and he glanced up. Casimiro emerged from the small mountain of pillows, covers still hanging from one shoulder and bundled in his lap. His feet slowly found the carpet, and the heel of his palm pressed firmly over his left eye. The ever present glare in his uncursed, tired eye was aimed at him. His thin lips were bent in a grimace of pain, tying together the image of sleepdeprived misery.

Finished with the shirt, Finas looked around for his belt. He spotted it in the pile of clothes by the bed. He took a step closer to it and passed by in front of Casimiro, and nearly lost his balance when the other man latched onto him around the waist. The grip was like iron, fingers digging into his hip. Casimiro pulled him closer and pressed the left side of his face into his stomach.

Finas looked down at him at the initial surprise, then his features softened and he let out a low sigh. He cupped his hands on the back of the short-cut head and slid down to rub at his back. Casimiro’s shoulders were tense and tightly wound like a spring.

“Your eye’s that bad today?” he asked.

“I guess,” Casimiro shrugged, voice low, “not worse than usual. Just can’t be fucked to ignore it right now.”

Finas slid his hand through the half-dyed hair and down under the sharp jaw, urging Casimiro to look up and meet his gaze. The glare was gone, brow instead turned up and just so, so tired.

“Fin, are you really in a rush?”

“I’m sorry.” It was all Finas could say. If he could make the pain go away, he would in a figurative heartbeat.

Casimiro bent his head down into his side, spitting out a curse and pulling at his clothes to get closer, arms a little less tight now.

“You didn’t stay in bed,” Casimiro then said in an accusing tone.

“What for? We were done, weren’t we?”

“You know,” Casimiro nuzzled the cursed side of his face against his belly, back bending to Finas’ fleeting touches.

“What?”

“Cuddles?”

“But we did.”

“For one minute..!”

“I was running late, Cas…”

“Excuses.”

Finas bit back another sigh. Casimiro, you absolute child. If Casimiro liked something, anything, Casimiro wanted it, and never shied away from demanding Finas get it for him. And Finas usually broke his back doing it. Why he went to such lengths for Casimiro, he didn’t know. Actually, that was a lie. He was perfectly aware why.

“Does it help with managing the pain?” Finas asked as his hands trailed down his back and found a nice spot between the shoulderblades to push and rub. Casimiro gave a long sigh as the tension drained from his shoulders. The before claw-like fingers were hanging on by the belt-hoops in his trousers. His neck bent, head bowing down farther and pressing into his hip.

“Maybe. Sometimes… Mostly. …Yes,” Casimiro confessed, voice dropping into another sigh. “About the only damn thing that always works.”

Finas worked out one of the clinging hands from his clothing and brought up the thin hand to kiss the back of it. He knelt down on the bed next to Casimiro who immediately leaned on him like his bones wouldn’t support him. He wrapped his arms around his form, hands just hinting at pressing over the bare skin, and Casimiro moved as close as he could without climbing into his lap.

“You don’t have to sleep with me to make me hold you,” Finas said. He would gladly.

“Sleeping with you is nice too…”

“Just nice?”

“Sorry, I meant fuckin’ amazing?” The head on his shoulder blew cold air over his throat in soundless chuckles.

“Hm. Better.”

The ticking of the clock was loud like the tolling of bells, and Finas was more and more aware of how little time he had left. He tried to detatch himself from the other, but with each pain-relieved sigh he couldn’t bring himself to. He glanced at the clockface, estimating how much longer he could let this continue.

…Damn it all.

He would be late either way at this rate, better make sure it’s for a good reason.

He convinced Casimiro to lie back down, surrounded by an obscene amount of soft pillows. He released his grip on his torso and adjusted the covers over him, sitting by his side. Casimiro’s half-lidded good eye watched as he leaned over him, fingers slowly carding throuh his hair and lightly settling over the closed, left eye. A grey-skinned hand appeared from under the cover and placed itself over his, holding it in place.

“Good,” Casimiro said lowly and pressed into his palm, closing his good eye.

“Try to find sleep, it’s still early for you,” Finas said. For a being of the night, Casimiro had a horrible night-day cycle. But his face is already slack and head heavy. Carefully Finas retrieved his hand, the long-fingered hand of Casimiro taking its place like a bandage. He got no reply to his words, but when he leaned down and kissed his cheek he noticed Casimiro’s lips twitch up slightly. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, love,” he whispered.

Casimiro shifted on the bed and their noses bumped, and cold lips stole a quick peck. When he spoke it’s half-asleep mumbling through a grin:

“You’d better, badger.”


End file.
